Ashes to Ashes
by Zephyr5
Summary: Sometimes it is better to accept that you don't know something, lest the truth bring more sorrow than your heart can withstand the truth won't always make you free...and even time can't heal some wounds. !Implied maleXmale relationship, character death!


Category: Book  
Sub Category: Harry Potter

Title: Ashes to Ashes

Genres: Supernatural, Mystery, Songfic  
Language: English  
Author: Zephyr5

Rating: T

Summary: Sometimes it is better to accept that you don't know something, lest the truth bring more sorrow than your heart can withstand... The truth won't always make you free...and even time can't heal some wounds.

Warnings: implied male/male relationship, character death, some slightly OOC moments...

Spoiler Warnings: Some for Sirius and book six (I'll manage to read past chapter five at some point, honest.)

Disclaimers: I do not own the canon Harry Potter characters who make an appearance, I do, however, own the plot, even if it didn't quite go to plan... This is based on (and around) the song 'Crazy Man Michael' by Fairport Convention, the lyrics are therefore not mine; they are, however, accurate according to the actual writer of the song, so don't complain to me about the sometimes-questionable grammar.

AN: This was written in three hours and twenty minutes, starting at 20 to midnight and finishing at about 3am. Please forgive any completely braindead moments - my eyes were bleeding by the time I finished, but the muse wouldn't let me stop until the story ended. I'll try and clear some bits up at the end that may have remained somewhat ambiguous, but most things are reasonably clear (although it may take a second read-through to notice them).

Key:  
_"Text."_ : Song lyrics  
_'Text.'_ : Spoken song lyrics  
_word_ : Emphasis  
**'Text.'** : Written words (e.g. on a note)  
"Text." : Speech

**Ashes to Ashes**

_"Within the fire and out upon the sea  
Crazy man Michael was walking"_

They had made a joke of it, albeit one few would recognise; but that was the point, their new names weren't supposed to be obvious. They'd chosen them for each other, and, in all honesty, Severus had expected to be something far more...eclectic...than Michael. His husband - well, 'wife' since they were supposed to be muggles - had simply smirked and stated that, to him, Severus _was_ like a God.

In return he had renamed 'Harry' as 'Alex' - ambiguous enough in the muggle world, but also appropriate. He didn't think he could have coped calling the 'defender of mankind' by an undeniably female name.

Voldemort had, of course, been defeated by Harry at the end of his seventh year, and, in the celebrations and general confusion, the 'boy-who-lived', had somehow managed to quietly slip away. He'd vanished into the muggle world with suspicious ease, leaving only a cryptic note in Grimmauld Place.

**'I know why. It changes nothing, to dust.'**

Time...tempus...changing everything and nothing, and eventually reducing all things to dust... It had been a message to him; a message, and an invitation.

Their relationship had started before Harry's sixth year, before fifth year...had started, in fact, after the fiasco of the drawing of the names from the Goblet of Fire. It had been strictly platonic though, his ethics would not have allowed otherwise, but even that had changed after the death of Sirius Black.

It had been, every summer holiday, as he'd thought both at the time and later, disturbingly easy to play Dumbledore and Voldemort against one another. As long as he exercised his normal caution, neither ever knew that he faked summonings and missions in order to visit his 'nemesis'.

And then Dumbledore had played his last card, and Severus had not seen Harry again until they had been facing each other on opposite sides of the battlefield.

So many had died that day...

But Harry had slipped away, never aware that all the Death Eaters - with the exception of Severus - had died with their master, never aware that a single, unwilling, Horcrux had survived.

Never aware that he had left his task undone...

Or perhaps he _did_ know, had known even then that it was not yet over. Most days Severus could almost pretend that everything was normal, but on winter evenings like this, with the flickering flames of the fire to lull his defenses, the whispering voice of his former master was almost understandable.

Every time, mindful that Harry might wander in at an inopportune moment, Severus resisted the urge to sink deeper into the trance; resisted the urge to try and make out the whispered words...

* * *

Time passed, the seasons ever changing; winter to spring, spring to summer, summer to autumn, autumn to winter, over and over.

Slowly time ground everything to dust...nothing to dust...and slowly the voice grew stronger, more insistent, yet never could he hear distinct words.

It became easier to slip into a trance, lulled by the light of the fire, or even a candle, lulled by the soft crashing of the waves on the pebbled beach. Often, now, he would be unable to recall parts of his meandering walks along the coast, through the woods and fields further inland. Those days his scar would twinge painfully, or itch, and he was studiously ignored by Harry when he attempted to bring the taboo subject of Voldemort up. He was no longer able to force the boy - for he still thought of his younger husband as such, despite having celebrated his thirtieth birthday some severn years past - to face his demons. He had no right, not when they both knew full well he was avoiding his own...

* * *

Time continued relentlessly on.

* * *

Severus, bereft of any distractions - he could no longer concentrate on even the simplest potions without the flames lulling him into a trance - began to dwell on his future and what it might be. He barely noticed when he began to demand, aloud, to know what his future held, failed entirely to discern the teasing, taunting tone the voice's whispers now held.

Harry, plagued only by the demon called knowledge, could do nothing but watch his husband's descent into madness. He watched as Severus began to hold conversations - more like shouting matches - with thin air. He watched as the trances began lasting for days rather than hours or minutes. And he watched for the end that was inevitable with a heavy heart.

_

* * *

"He met with a raven with eyes black as coals  
And shortly they were a-talking"_

Harry found his husband staring out across the bay, trapped in a trance once again. This time, though, it was different...

* * *

He didn't know, yet, that the boundary between vision and reality had worn so thin as to be almost imperceptable. All Severus knew, at that point, was that the voice, after so many years, was clear. For the whispers to come clear after so long was so fascinating that he cared not that it was a raven - or what appeared to be a raven - who was speaking them.

_'Your future, your future I would tell to you  
Your future you often have asked me'_

The voice...so like his former master's voice, and yet not. So like the voices of Harry and Albus, and, yes, even like his own voice. Voices that promised everything and, in the end, had given him nothing...yet he continued to believe their words...continued to listen...

_'Your true love will die by your own right hand  
And crazy man Michael will cursèd be'_

The words barely registered caught, as he was, by the raven's eyes...like polished ebony mirrors, empty of felling, of intelligence...of anything. Then...then its words penetrated, and Severus finally reacted to them.

_

* * *

"Michael he ranted and Michael he raved  
And beat up the four winds with his fists o"_

Perhaps it was childish, to flail about as he did, trying and failing to land a satisfactory blow on any of his unseen targets. Certainly it was not dignified to rail at anything and everything, cursing a God he didn't believe in and damning fate...damning himself for ever letting it go further than that first, bittersweet kiss...

Harry knew this was the end. Illusion and reality had blended to the point where Severus, ever a master in his own mind, could no longer distinguish between them. There was no other way his husband would be standing out in the open, where anyone could see him, displaying emotion so openly...so fiercely...piece of Voldemort's soul or no.

His heart broke - as it had every minute of every hour, of every day of every year since Voldemort's 'defeat' - as he watched the former Potions Master going from disbelieving, mocking laughter, to tears of rage so fierce they choked his attempts at violent, shouted denials and curses.

_"He laughed and he cried, he shouted and he swore  
For his mad mind had trapped him with a kiss o"_

It all kept boiling down to one thing; if he hadn't let the boy get close to him, had made sure they remained enemies, then it would all have been finished that day. Harry would have killed him without a second thought. He had been mad to think fate might not punish him for daring to think he deserved a little happiness...deserved Harry.

He had been mad indeed.

But...it hadn't been _him_ who initiated the kiss...it had been Harry...

_'You speak with an evil, you speak with a hate  
You speak for the devil that haunts me'_

The raven's eyes absorbed his denial without mercy. The void was absolute...timeless... Never would there be dust within those glassy orbs, neither the dust of galaxies, nor the dust of emotion. Never. Not like Harry's eyes, so expressive, so green, sparkling, full to the brim with dust, with life...always. Forever. The complete antithesis of the raven.

For a moment, as he thought of his husband, the image of the raven seemed to fade, its voice becoming a barely heard sussuration once more. Instead he could see Harry, the expression on his belovèd's face one that he could only have called pensive. He was lost in the beauty of his husband - a man posing as a woman for propiety's sake, yet inescapably masculine to him. His voice softened, but he was still inextricably - unknowingly - held within the vision.

_'For is she not the fairest in all the broad land  
'Your sorcerer's words are to taunt me'_

The vision of Harry faded, replaced by the raven once more, and Severus' anger soared.

* * *

On the clifftop, the spring sun still low on the horizon, Harry watched as his husband slowly drew a knife - they both still carried both muggle weapons and spare wands, or had. Severus had stopped carrying more than a single knife - albeit an enchanted fire-blade - when he had realised he was losing time on his walks, gaps that had no memories at all._

* * *

"He took out his dagger of fire and of steel  
And struck down the raven through the heart o"_

* * *

It hurt almost as much as he had expected - not the physical pain; his brain had burnt out most of his pain receptors during the last battle, making him a virtual leper, but saving him from insanity. Perhaps it was because he had resigned himself to this, perhaps because he would, finally, be able to give his lover the freedom he had promised, but it was almost a relief to know it was almost over.

It was taking, however, much longer than he had anticipated...

Harry's train of thought detrailed itself as his legs gave way, dumping him onto his arse and then his back as first they, and then his arms, began to spasm uncontrollably.

Severus had never realised they were _both_ horcruxes. But Harry had, and he had also realised that his peculiar connection to Voldemort - and hence his soul - would allow him to extract the fragment placed in Severus. It had only been later that he realised the 'Voldemort fragment' in his lover would have to be much more prominent before he could remove it.

Since Voldemort had only, really, had one objective towards the end, it wasn't hard to figure out that he would try and have the last laugh using Severus. A double blow; Harry's death, and Severus Snape's guilt at having been the cause.

His legs gave a last kick and were still; he could not afford for Severus to 'save' him at the last minute. His fingers drummed a last arpeggio on the ground; that was his cue, his entrance drumroll. Voldemort would have his victory, but it would be hollow...meaningless. He would die...but he would take the last of Tom Riddle with him!

_

* * *

"The bird fluttered long and the sky it did spin  
And the cold earth did wonder and startle"_

The wrenching sensation might have been an earthquake, might have been purely in his head, Severus wasn't sure. All he knew was that there was a wrenching sensation that made everything spin, and made him stagger, lightheaded, and fall to his knees.

The voice was gone.

His head felt strange...almost, empty...it felt like the time when Harry had accidentally removed the memory of half the steps in making the hair-colour changing potion for black hair. All that had remained was the knowledge that raven feathers were required...raven feathers...

Where was the raven? A raven he had been...talking to? A raven that he had...stabbed...

_'O where is the raven that I struck down dead  
And here did lie on the ground o'_

Bile rose in his throat as tears simultaneously sprang to eyes taht only now saw through the illusion.

_'I see that my true love with a wound so red  
Where her lover's heart it did pound o'_

* * *

He refused to let them hold a public memorial, refused to tell them what had happened or where. He did, however, tell them that Voldemort was finally gone for good, and in turn learned that Remus Lupin had quietly vanished, not long after his own disappearance.

He also told them - though he felt a fool doing so, he owed it to the man he'd murdered...the man he'd loved - of his theory of 'dust'. He didn't know if they'd understood; if they'd ever truly understand.

* * *

Often, now when he wandered, he would feel eyes watching him sadly, feel a presence all around that seemed to offer comfort. And so he would talk, aloud, sometimes apologies and self-recriminations, sometimes his theories for what Harry had learned - had done. More often, though, he simply spoke his thoughts aloud, a running commentry on whatever he saw, or heard, or was reminded of.

_"Crazy man Michael he wanders and calls  
And talks to the night and the day o"_

He thought he might be developing a reputation among the few 'locals' - not that they hadn't already been calling him crazy. They'd had justification, though they hadn't known it. He was sane now, blissfully free of Voldemort's taint, both in his mind and his body - Harry's last gift to him, the fulfilment of a promise of freedom he'd all but given up hope of. He had started whistling to celebrate the disappearance of the mark, although he only knew a few, very simple tunes. It probably made him seem even crazier - it was certainly so out of character for 'Severus Snape' that no one would think that was who he was - even if they knew, or had known, him.

Harry would have been the only exception.

Not a day went past that he didn't wish he was with his husband...

_"But his eyes they are sane and his speech it is plain  
And he longs to be far away o"_

But suicide was not an option. Harry had died at his hand, and in the absence of kin to decide his fate, Severus was determined to nurture the world Harry had returned to as dust.

Still, he knew Remus Lupin - some day - would quite happily be his judge, jury and, if he deemed it necessary, execution. There were wolves in the forest, real wolves, not werewolves, and he didn't know if the two species could - or did - communicate, never mind if the wolves could understand him. Yet he asked them, whenever he saw them, to forgive him - or to ask Remus to forgive him...he was never quite certain which.

_"Michael he whistles the simplest of tunes  
And asks of the wild wolves their pardon"_

* * *

Severus never knew whether Remus had never received the pleas for resolution, or whether the lack of response was, in itself, a response. He was, though a wizard, still only mortal.

* * *

"They believe the cabin on the coast is haunted by a madman - crazy man Michael the guidebook says he was called." Hermione hadn't changed much since her schooldays; she was still a bookworm through and through.

"So, why are we going there again?" Ron hadn't changed either; a little more mature, more careworn, but still the same Ronald Weasley at heart.

"Oh Ron, you know I'm doing a 'Ghost Holidays' book for Dean's travel company." She gave him a chiding look. "Besides..." She didn't need to say the rest - if there _was_ a ghost there, it _might_ know something...anything...about Harry and Severus.

"The book dates the haunting from at least the late 1800s." Ron pointed out stoically, knowing he was not going to win any favours from his next statement. "There's no way _they_ could be the ghosts." Hermione's expression was pained - she'd never really believed Harry was dead.

"I know...but..." She sighed. "Let's just go and look - if nothing else, maybe it can shed some light on the whole 'dust' thing. Lord knows it would be just like Professor Snape to give us a clue to their location through some obscure and cryptic reference."

**

* * *

'I know why. It changes nothing, to dust.'**

Time...tempus...changing everything and nothing, and eventually reducing all things to dust.

Time flies...tempus fugit...but as wizards know, time is not linear, or rather, not _just_ linear. Time pools and eddies, runs faster or slower on a whim, and, if the wizard is powerful enough, or has the ability to look correctly, it is as navigable as the river it resembles.

* * *

Their first clue was the remains of the cabin, barely standing, yet it was possible to tell it had once been inhabited by a wizard - or wizards - of considerable power. It was still intact for a start.

Their second clue was the complete and utter lack of dust, and the third clue - at which point Hermione began to get quite excited - was the remnants of what seemed to be an unusually large time-turner.

Unfortunately things went downhill from there.

* * *

After several hours of waiting, they were finally rewarded with the sound of whistling.

Both Ron and Hermione shot to their feet - the furniture having been repaired to functionality with a few quick spells - only for a complete stranger to walk through the door...literally.

"Harry? Professor?" Neither salutation drew a response. The ghost seemed to be ignoring them completely.

"Oi! Mate!" Ron's shout was also ignored. Slowly Hermione walked over to where the ghost stood before the fireplace, but there was no sign that it saw her at all. Hermione looked both crestfallen and pleased at the same time.

"It's stuck between realms - we can see and hear it, but it can't see us or hear us, or any other mortals. Wolves and ravens it might be able to see - both traditionally have associations with death. But, there's no way to ask it questions - or to help it move on."

"So what do you want to do?"

The ghost chose that moment to head out of the cabin once more. It seemed to be moving with a purpose, and it was almost automatic for them to both hurry after the imposing figure.

* * *

Eventually they came to a cliff, overlooking the bay, covered in a carpet of brilliant white daises.

"I shouldn't have gone to inform them of your death - you were ever the better of us when it came to navigating time love - I fear I left something behind...or didn't quite fully step out. I never had the raw power to bend time to my will; I could see how it moved, but control it?"

It took a moment before they realised the ghost wasn't speaking to them, was, in fact, merely speaking aloud to someone who had died... Hermione put the clues together first.

"Severus..." Ron's expression was confused. "They went back in time by several hundred years - I think - that's why we could never find them anywhere." Ron nodded, it made sense, and he wasn't going to invite an incomprehensible technical explanation by asking _how_ they'd travelled so far back in time. "Harry died, and Professor Snape came forward briefly to let us know," she continued. "But he didn't come back correctly, and so when he died he became a ghost, trapped between realms."

Ron was spared the act of feigning comprehension as they both realised that Snape's ghost was striding purposefully away again.

"I see you in everything around me, love, especially the flowers. I was right, you know, you had so much life in you, so much dust; how could you not fill the world with life?"

Snape was muttering - to himself? To Harry? - as he walked. Ron listened only half-heartedly. He had a sickening feeling that they would regret ever wanting to know the truth.

"Beautiful life - just like you..."

Ron watched as Snape smelt the white rose...then - though it should not have been possible - brutally snapped the flower's stem and let it drop to the ground. He had no doubt that the action meant something to the ghost, but he didn't try to dissuade Hermione from going on - it would be a futile effort now she was convinced there was something to be discovered.

When they reached the forest, however, he was ready to draw the line. Snape had been a spy in life - and a damn good one; he still wasn't sure which side the Potions Master had _really_ been working for - so he could have been faking everything so far. Besides, there was a bloody wolf peering out at them!

But the wolf seemed to be what Snape was looking for. The litany that spilled from his mouth sounded familiar and well-practised.

"Lupin, I can never earn Harry's forgiveness for killing him, but I ask for yours as his closest kin. I was not prepared for Voldemort to put a piece of himself inside me, nor for the insanity he nurtured in my mind. Harry should have killed me that day, along with my 'master'. But he didn't, so Voldemort used me to kill him instead..."

* * *

They followed Snape back to the cabin automatically, both stunned by the revelations they had heard. Snape, a horcrux at the end, driven insane and tricked into killing Harry. Harry, who had known what Voldemort would try, and had sacrificed his life so that his lover - and the world - might finally be completely free of Voldemort.

* * *

Snape was tending the garden as they left, and Ron, as he watched, suddenly understood about the dust.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust..."

His murmur went unheard by Hermione, and as he turned away, he missed the slight smile on his former Professor's face.

_

* * *

"For his true love is flown into every flower grown  
And he must be keeper of the garden"_

* * *

AN: eh...it's just coming up to 24 hours after I started writing this, and as far as explanations go, well...oh, fine, a synopsis and the answers to a couple of questions my housemate asked :p - this bit has **SPOILERS!**

Synopsis

Hermione was busy with SPEW for GoF, and Ron turned against Harry, so Harry turned to the one person who _always_ treats him the same - Snape. Snape is a mentor for Harry, although they still have the spat over the Pensieve and later Sirius' death. Snape tells Dumbledore he has been summoned by Voldemort, and tells Voldemort that Dumbledore is sending him on a mission, in order to clandestinely visit Harry during the summer after OotP. After some straight-talking (and shouting under silencing wards), Harry accepts Sirius' death, and both his and Snape's roles in it. Some time after the reconciliation and before the end of HBP, Harry kisses Snape - the relationship becomes sexual.  
Snape murders Dumbledore and vanishes at the end of HBP; neither he nor Harry see each other until the next year, when Voldemort attacks Hogwarts and the final battle takes place. Snape is present as Voldemort's second-in-command, and does not begin fighting for the 'light' until Voldemort has been 'defeated' by Harry. Ron and Hermione fall. Harry destroys Voldemort and falls unconscious. All the marked Death Eaters fall shortly after their master, with the exception of Severus, although his mark remains. Some time during the confusion immediately following the battle, Harry vanishes.  
Severus is the first to return to Grimmauld Place and find the note Harry has left - a cryptic message meant for Severus to tell him where Harry has gone. Ron, Hermione and Remus all survive the last battle and begin searching for Harry when they realise he has disappeared.  
Severus also vanishes.  
From where they had practised battle magic during the summer after OotP (the year 1940), Severus and Harry go even further back in time to around the 1700s. It is necessary for one of them to pretend to be female in order to avoid scandal, so Severus becomes 'Michael' and Harry becomes 'Alex'. Severus begins the slow descent into madness as Harry watches. Severus is referred by the locals as 'crazy man Michael'.  
Shortly after Severus vanishes back in time, Remus Lupin vanishes from the wizarding world - his fate is never discovered. Ron and Hermione continue to search for Harry - or Severus, or Remus - without success.  
Voldemort finally manipulates Severus into attacking and killing Harry, but in the process Harry uses his unique connection to Voldemort's soul to pull the fragment from Severus' mind, unmaking the horcrux. Finally sane, and (with the disappearance of the mark) free of Voldemort, Severus travels forwards to inform Ron and Hermione of Harry's death, then returns to the past. Although he knows Remus isn't alive in his time, Severus still begs forgiveness from the wolves in the nearby forest whenever he sees them. Unbeknownst to him, his tale becomes a pack legend, and is passed down through the generations. Eventually Severus dies, but his guilt anchors him to the place, and he becomes a ghost.  
Dean asks Hermione to write his travel company a 'Ghost Holidays' guidebook, which indirectly leads her and Ron to the 2015 incarnation of Severus and Harry's cabin. They finally discover the truth, and Ron finally understands what Severus means by 'dust'.

Questions

Names: 'Why Alex? Why not Sam? Just as ambiguous.'  
Symbolism, plain and simple. Michael - 'like a God' (or 'gift from God', either works although it is the former meaning Harry knows), Harry explains that Severus is like a God to him; he's kept him sane and always remained constant in a world that either loves or hates 'the boy-who-lived'. Alex, from Alexander, or Alexandra as the feminine version - 'defender of mankind', Severus says he couldn't have called the 'defender of mankind' a blatantly feminine name.  
To be honest, Alex sprang to my mind because I've known both males and females called 'Alex', whereas the Samantha I knew was either addressed by her full name or as 'Sammy'. Additionally (although I'll be honest, this only just occurred to me), both Michael and Alex are old names that wouldn't have been out of place in the 1700s, at least, not as out of place as 'Sam'.

Dust: 'What the...?'  
Heh, the things that happen when I write an unhinged Severus laughs Okay, so, the dust is one of those things that, really, you have to read the story a second time to understand - that's what I think anyway, and I wrote it. It wasn't until I got quizzed on it that I realised just how morbidly metaphorical I (and thus Severus) had been. Basically, as Ron says at the end, 'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust' - we start and end at the same place. We are born, live, possibly procreate, and die, and, in the great cycle of efficiency that is nature, we break down to feed various other plants and creatures going through the same process, which cascades up the scale back to humanity. I thought the symbolism and contrasts Severus draws between the raven (Voldemort) and Harry were perfect (and completely accidental!) - Harry's eyes are 'full of dust' and he stands for the 'light' and life; the raven's eyes are void of dust and always will be, and Voldemort, surprise surprise, stands for the 'dark' and death.

Faking it: 'Hey! Snape smiled after Ron's comment - _was_ he faking it?'  
Alas, yes, Ron was quite correct when he considered the fact that Severus was both capable of, and in fact faking his inability to see or hear either of them. Fortunately for Severus, Hermione explained away his ability to see the wolf without needing prompting, although it could have just been habit to tell his tale to a random tree on the edge of a forest, wolf or no. Hermione's theory that he's 'stuck between realms' is a good excuse for Severus, and he takes advantage of that by spinning his tale about 'not returning correctly' from going forwards to tell them about Harry's death.

The end: 'Well, what happened then?'  
Well, personally I think Severus' ghost is the one responsible for telling Harry the 'inevitable' ending to their story, closing the circle if you will - how else did Harry know to vanish back in time, to invite Severus with him, that he would need to wait for Voldemort's soul to nearly take over Severus etc. That being the case, I have no idea why the ghost is still there - unless it was deliberately waiting for Ron and Hermione, in which case he'll probably now pass on. As for Ron and Hermione, well, I don't think that location will be going into Dean's travel book. Again, whether or not they tell anyone else what really happened, I don't know, but I doubt it.

Lupin: 'So what happened to Remus? Did he go back in time too?'  
No, he didn't go back in time (neither did he ever get Severus' pleas for forgiveness). Having lost all those who were dear to him, and the supplier of his wolfsbane potion, Remus, after Harry couldn't be found and Severus had vanished, quietly left and committed suicide somewhere where he wouldn't be found. He couldn't face going through the full pain and loss of control each full moon, not with his mate (Sirius) and the last of his pack (Harry) gone. Sorry Remus lovers.

Red herring: 'So what was with the large time-turner?'  
Ah, but it only _looked like_ an unusually large time-turner. It was never stated that it _was_ a time turner. In fact, Severus comments on Harry's ability to navigate and manipulate time as compared to his own abilities to do so, and elsewhere it is mentionned that you only need to be sufficiently powerful, able to actually see time, or both, in order to move through it in directions other than straight 'downstream'.

Anything else, review - if I'm sufficiently intrigued (and it isn't a question with a blindingly obvious answer), I might even respond ;)


End file.
